


Unto You

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Nativity au, Religious Content, Very AU, it's the nativity story but in a/b/o victorian England okay this is all very complicated, lamplighter - Freeform, merry christmas God waited an extra 1800 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: Louis is a lamplighter celebrating the saturnalia season in his own way.Harry is heavily pregnant and new in the city.The holiday of Christmas is yet to be created.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 33
Kudos: 156
Collections: 1D Christmas Fest





	Unto You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Obviously, read the tags - I know some people would prefer not to read fics with religious themes, and this fic is (spoilers!) the story of the birth of Christ, but in Victorian England, with a/b/o dynamics. It is understandable that this fic may not be for you. 
> 
> But whether it is for you or not, I wish you a merry Christmas! Enjoy what I think may essentially be a crack fic! I have made vague assumptions as to what England would be like without Christmas, but with Yule and Saturnalia smushed together, and also if you know anything about lamplighters I _do_ apologise, because that is totally inaccurate as well!
> 
> Happy Christmas, and happy new year!

The snow that falls on the streets of Victorian London is sooty and grey, turning quickly to slush when it lands on layers of brick and mud, and is splashed under the wheels of carriages and hooves of horses. The sun is still setting, but the sky is dark with heavy clouds, and although the streets are crowded with people heading to parties and gatherings, there’s a muted-ness about the area, as snow - even sooty dirty London snow - has the ability to do. 

On occasion, Louis’ been to the countryside during the yuletide season. He’s seen the soft and fluffy snow that falls untainted from the smog of London. On days like today he thinks maybe it would be worth it to pursue an occupation out where the stars are visible and the air doesn’t stink of waste, but most of the time he prefers the city. The spark of life that’s always alive in these streets has a reassuring quality that the ghosts of the countryside don’t possess.

Louis pulls his coat tighter with one hand, the other balancing his lamplighting pole over his shoulder. It’s December 23rd, and tonight is the night of the winter solstice; the darkest night of the year. There are Yule Balls taking place all over London tonight in celebration, but that’s for a class much wealthier than Louis’ family. He tips his hat to the occasional omega in a gown, but otherwise this is just another night for him, out lighting lamps until the well at the end of his pole has run dry of oil. 

The smell of oil is something he’ll never be able to get out of his clothes, as careful as he is not to spill it. His alpha senses make him sensitive to the smell of it in a way beta lamplighters aren’t (the lucky sods), but over time it’s dulled a little, which is helpful. It’s certainly not helped him on his quest to land himself an omega, as their noses are even more sensitive than his own, and he’s sure none are in the market for an alpha who smells constantly of the night time streets.

He’s nearing the end of his route, oil running low, as he rounds the corner to find a commotion just a few buildings down. There’s a large man standing in the well lit doorway of what Louis is pretty sure is a hotel, his arms crossed and stance wide.

There’s someone else on the ground in front of him, looking like they’ve just tumbled into the slush, and Louis can’t quite make out their features, but even from this far away he can spy the heavily pregnant stomach they’re curling protectively around. 

Drawing closer, Louis tries to act inconspicuous (a difficult thing to do with a seven foot pole slung over one shoulder).

“We have no vacancies,” the man spits as people hurry around the two of them, crossing to the other side of the street and pretending not to notice. “Even if we  _ did, _ we would not  _ disgrace _ our establishment with the likes of someone like  _ you!” _

The person in the snow scrambles backward on their hands, their backside completely caked in that sooty, grimy mush. They say something in a voice deep enough to take Louis off-guard, but he can’t hear what it is. 

The other man clearly can, though, and he makes a move as if to lunge at the figure, before apparently composing himself and stomping inside, slamming the door and throwing the street into shadow.

It’s jarringly quiet in the moments after that, and Louis stands frozen, unsure what to do. He’s seen plenty of drunks thrown out on the street from night to night but this person seems  _ pregnant-? _

That word does stir something inside of him. They seem not just pregnant but  _ heavily _ pregnant. He runs forward, only to stop short when the person flinches away from him. Ah, perhaps the long pole he’s wielding isn’t too welcoming either. 

Louis squats down a few paces from the person. The street lights that he’s just list cast enough glow for him to make out a grimy face, smeared with tears. A boy who couldn’t be older than himself and, by that sweet scent, an omega. 

“Hello,” Louis says, trying to keep a level of calm alpha timbre running through his voice. “Do you need assistance? How can I help?”

The boy stares up at him, both hands clutched around his belly, protective. “You are a lamplighter,” the boy says, and his voice is deep but quivery, unsure. 

“I am,” says Louis. “So I know the streets well. Are you looking for a place to shelter? A doctor?”

“I…” the boy gulps. “I have no money and no way to get money. I have nothing.”

“You are with child,” Louis ventures. “You have  _ something.” _

It’s a ridiculous thing to say, and very unhelpful in this circumstance, Louis realises, but having grown up with a midwife for a mum since he was very young, it’s been drilled into him just how precious a new child is. 

The boy wipes furiously at his face, smearing dirt across it. Louis wants to reach out and clean it for him, but an alpha touching a pregnant omega - someone who  _ must _ belong to another alpha - would be terribly inappropriate to put it lightly. “I have nowhere to stay and no ways to find shelter,” he says. “I need… I need  _ somewhere.” _

“You need somewhere,” Louis repeats, thinking. He thinks of his own home, so crowded even a mouse couldn’t find room. “You will come with me,” he says. “I do not have a place for you to sleep, but I have a place for you to rest.”

The boy frowns up at him. “It’s late,” he says, suspicion laced in his voice. “I would be imposing.”

“In my family, I  _ assure _ you that you would not be,” Louis says, and he stands, holding out his free hand to the boy. “What is your name? Where is your alpha?”

“My name… I am Harry,” the boy says, taking his hand after a moment’s hesitation. His hand is large and boney, but cold to the touch. “I have no alpha.”

_ Ah, _ Louis thinks. His mind races through the possibilities. Harry was caught cheating and with another’s child, or perhaps his alpha fell ill. All sorts of scandal could have been the cause, and Louis could be causing a stir if he is seen with such a pregnant omega when he is so clearly known to be unmarried. Still, as he leads Harry through the streets he does not let go of his hand, as if daring someone to question it. 

“Where are you leading me?” Harry asks after a dozen paces. He’s slow, breathing laboured as he clutches his belly still with his free hand. 

“My family live just down this way,” Louis says. “My mum will be able to help you if she is home.” He lets the alpha timbre heavily tumble through his words now that he knows there is no alpha in the picture. He can practically feel the muscles in Harry’s hand relax a little, the way his body loses tension. If nothing else he can do this for this poor boy on the darkest night of the year. 

Down a long and winding street they go, and Louis has to slow himself several times to make sure Harry can keep up. By the time they reach his home Harry is clearly exhausted, head drooping even as he doesn’t complain about the distance. 

Louis opens the door to their small home, a room just large enough for his siblings and mum to sleep spread on their bedding across the floor in front of the fireplace. When their bellies are happy and full and the fire is roaring it can be the most lovely and comforting sight. 

Tonight, when he walks in with a heavily pregnant omega in tow, he feels the six pairs of eyes that land on him and the silence that rolls across the room. 

“Lou?” asks his eldest sister. “Who is this?”

“This is Harry,” says Louis, pulling him close. “He is our guest for the holiday. Where is Mum, is she out?”

“She had a home visit,” says one of the older twins.

“Said she’d be home by nine.”

“Said you’d be home soon and to wait until you arrived to eat.”

“Right,” says Louis. “Well, we can eat now. I’m sure Harry is starving.” He looks toward Harry, who’s nod starts out timid and then becomes more insistent. 

His siblings don’t seem entirely sure about their unexplained guest, but Louis drags Harry through the room to the small kitchen on the other side. “There is a loo,” he explains, “but it’s upstairs and we share it with the neighbors.”

Harry nods, taking in everything. “Is this okay?” he asks. “Should I leave?”

“You should not,” Louis insists. “My siblings are terrors sometimes but they mean no harm with their stares.” He opens the pot of what his mum must have started cooking before having to run off - potato soup. “This will work very well, I’ll just add a little extra milk so it will go between the lot of us.”

He directs Harry to the one stool in the room which Harry takes gratefully. Louis can feel the eyes of his siblings as they peer around the corner into the kitchen, but he ignores them, focusing on the meal at hand. “Harry,” he says. “If I may be so bold, is the alpha still… around?”

There is silence until he turns to look at Harry. The omega’s face looks drained of colour but at Louis’ prompting he speaks. “There is no alpha.”

“So he is not around?”

“He… Yes. He is not around.”

There is so much more to this story but Harry is clearly unwilling to tell. That’s fine, of course, it’s none of Louis’ business, but already he’s feeling himself growing rather attached and he’s always been a bit on the nosey side. Perhaps after a good supper and the reassurance of a midwife looking him over he might change his mind. 

— 

The room is cramped as they huddle around the fire, snow still falling heavily through the windows behind them. Louis’ youngest siblings talk animatedly about everything and nothing, and Louis watches Harry carefully. He seems to be breathing heavily, concentrating on doing it slowly. Louis doesn’t have  _ much _ experience, but he’s been with his mum on enough visits to know that Harry’s likely feeling labour pains. He’s also been watching him enough to figure out that there is not even a hint of a mating bite on Harry’s neck. His coat has slipped from his shoulders just enough to show the bare, milky white skin where proper omegas are marked, but he’s clearly never been touched in that way.

When Louis’ mum comes home, he’s startled out of his sleuthing just in time to pretend he wasn’t staring. 

“Darlings,” she says as she drops her coat by the door. “There is one more of you than there should be.” 

She says it not unkindly but Louis sees Harry hunch as if he can hide himself away. “Mum I brought someone I hoped you could help,” he says. “This is Harry.”

“Hello, Harry,” Louis’ mum says. “Have you ever been seen before?”

Harry’s eyes wide. “Seen?” he asks, uncertain. 

Ah, right. “She is a midwife,” Louis whispers to him, and his siblings erupt in giggles. 

“Oh,” Harry says, comprehension dawning on him. “No, I have not.”

“Well it does look like you’re about due for one,” Louis’ mum says. “I am Jay, I am a local midwife to about all the mothers in this section of town. Unfortunately we would have  _ no _ privacy here and I don’t believe you’d like to bear your nether regions with all of my brood about. Give me a moment to have some supper and I’ll think on this. Louis, be a dear and give him your blanket, the poor boy looks half frozen.”

Harry makes eye contact with Louis and shakes his head vigorously, as if to belay any notion of the idea. Louis just laughs and takes his favourite blue blanket from the pile in the corner, unfolding it and draping it over Harry’s shoulders. “Best do as she says,” he tells Harry. “She knows what she’s talking about.”

— 

Louis’ mum comes up with a solution that is unconventional at best. In exchange for promising to deliver his daughter’s first for no charge, she barters their neighbor Mr. Potherd for the use of his barn. Louis is dumbstruck that she would go to such lengths, but when he asks her why, she just raises her eyebrows and looks at him. He doesn’t know what that means, and doesn’t ask.

Harry walks more steadily with one hand in Louis’ for balance, so he comes with them as they journey down behind the row of houses nearest the river. The barn is mostly empty because it’s only use is for horses, which Mr. Potherd’s wife and daughter have taken out to the countryside to see family. It’s a stroke of luck, although Louis worries about the cold. 

Jay instructs Louis on how to arrange the hay to make a bed comfortable enough for Harry to prop himself up against (he’s brought Louis’ blue blanket). When he does, they help Harry to lay against the material. It smells like a barn, which is rather regrettable, but a look of relaxation crosses Harry’s face as he’s able to melt into the material. 

“Louis,” Jay instructs. “I’m going to have to insist you leave the room for this bit as it would be improper, but don’t go too far. I don’t think this will be long.”

It wasn’t ever  _ improper _ when Louis was a child following her around, but he supposes now that he’s presented that does make sense. He walks out into the chill of the night, pacing back and forth across the snowy slushy pavement in front of the barn. There are street lamps unlit in this area, since it was on his interrupted route. He wonders if he has enough time to run home and grab the pole he left there. 

It’s an eternity and no time at all before Jay calls him back in. “Harry here,” she says to him, “is due to be with child any day now.”

Louis looks down at Harry, who does look like he’s breathing harder again, buried under the blue blanket as well as now Jay’s outer shawl. “Oh,” is all he says. 

“I’d like you to stay with him,” says Jay. “He cannot possibly have a child at our house with all of those children of mine underfoot, and in the middle of the solstice festivities like this we would not be able to find him anywhere else safe to be. Are you in agreeance?”

Louis is, although even if he wasn’t his mum is clearly not leaving room for discussion. “Harry?” he asks, looking down at him. “Are you okay with this? There isn’t anyone else you want with you?”

Harry looks terribly small when he answers, “I have no one.”

“Right,” Louis says. “Then of course I’m staying.”

“Good child,” Jay says, and she hugs him tight in that terribly informal and terribly loving way she does. “I will sent Charlotte with more soup and milk. Be sure to keep me updated when anything changes.”

“Of course,” Louis says, and then after a few more instructions to Harry, Jay is gone as quick as she had come and they’re left in a silent barn.

It’s not as cold as Louis had feared, especially in the straw. Still, he takes off his own coat and offers it to Harry. 

“I will be fine,” Harry says. “You need warmth too.”

Louis drapes it over Harry’s stomach. “I am an alpha,” he says. “I am supposed to be warm.”

Harry doesn’t try to give it back, which makes Louis preen. He doesn’t have much to give, but he has enough.

— 

He must have fallen asleep.

Louis must have fallen asleep, because when he wakes there is someone else in the barn. 

He should have smelled them, should have woken up immediately when the door opened. What  _ really _ should have alerted him is the halo of light surrounding this person who is standing over Harry.

“You haven’t told him,” the person is saying. They sound like they’re familiar with Harry, and Louis pretends he’s still asleep. How could someone have found Harry, in a barn he’s never been in before?

“He would leave,” Harry says. 

“He would not,” says the other person. They seem to be lighting up the room, a soft golden glow. They have short hair and kind eyes and are wearing robes like those of ancient times. “We told you that the true one would not leave you. See, he is awake now.”

Then, Louis sucks in a breath so fast it makes him dizzy as the person looks toward him, and they blink and the number of eyes they have is much more than a person should. They blink again, and they are gone. Darkness descends. 

“You are awake,” Harry whispers.

Louis, having trouble catching his breath, nods. 

“What did you hear?”

“That you haven’t told me,” Louis says. “That is all, I promise.”

Harry looks down. “Would you truly like to know?”

“I’d like to know whatever you would tell me,” Louis says. “I feel as though I am a part of something much bigger than I first realised.”

“That is how I have felt for nine months,” Harry mumbles and Louis can’t help but laugh ever so lightly at that. 

“That is what most mothers say.”

“Most mothers have an alpha,” Harry says. “I have none. This child— they have none.”

“Was it a night of- of passion?” Louis asks, trying not to let his mind wander to what that could have been. 

“No,” Harry says. “I- it was nothing. I have never spent my heat with an alpha. I have never laid with anyone. This child was… given to me.”

Louis stares at Harry. Thoughts flit through his mind - whether his memory has gone, whether he is insane, whether he is lying - but the person in the barn. That person was not a person. There is something at work here. 

“Who was that?” Louis asks.

“A messenger,” Harry says. “They say their name is Liam and they are from the Lord.”

“Did you see…” Louis trails off.

“The eyes?” 

“Yes.”

Harry smiles, a little ruefully. “You get used to them. This was the third time I have seen them.”

Louis nods. “And you have never had an alpha…?”

“I was betrothed,” Harry says, face solemn. “But he did not believe me. That I have not been with anyone. He agreed to end it quietly, but that I must leave. I could not go home, I would have been a disgrace. Surely, put at the steps of the temples to be dealt with.”

“No, of course not,” Louis hastens to agree. The temples of the ancient gods can be harsh and cruel places, he wouldn’t wish that on Harry. “Did Liam say  _ why _ this is happening? Why you?”

“He said…” Harry pauses, looking as if he is selecting his words carefully. “He said  _ seventeen hundred years late is not too late _ and that _ Him above has finally given the comment  _ and that I have been selected because of,” he blushes here. “Because I am pure of heart.”

“I can tell that just by looking at you,” Louis says, and Harry buries his face in his hands.

“I do not  _ feel _ pure of heart,” Harry says. “I feel like I do not know what will happen when I have this child and no way to provide for it.”

Louis moves closer to Harry, as close as he dares without initiating physical touch. “It will work out,” he says. “I will promise you. I- I will do what I can to make sure it works out.”

Harry looks at him with shock and then with tears, and then he is reaching, tentative, with outstretched fingers that Louis gladly takes. 

“Maybe seeing an angel on the night of the solstice is enough for both of us to know we will be able to make it through this,” Louis says.

— 

They sleep side by side in the barn, close together for warmth, but separated by the expanse of Harry’s stomach. Louis, with Harry’s permission, puts his hand on it and feels the taunt stretch of the skin. There is a child in there that is not his but right now, on this snowy night, he seems to be claiming it as his own. 

They talk little the next day, only about childhood memories and not at all about the uncertain future. Harry doesn’t begin to have the true pains of labour until the next night, and when Louis calls his mum back she does what she can to help him breathe through it. 

It is in the dawn of the 25th that a child is born, in a little horse barn in the centre of London to a virgin omega and his alpha. In that moment, Louis knows he would do anything for Harry and his— their— new daughter.

Liam appears one last time to tell them that she will be  _ savior  _ but also that he is happy for them. It is not less jarring this time when Louis sees his eyes for the second time. 

They hold their child in their arms. She cries just as a normal baby would, her face pink and her features tiny. Louis loves her like his own, and she  _ is _ his own. She is their own. It continues to snow outside, the white fluffy stuff that is generally only seen in the countryside. There is something different in the world now.

**Author's Note:**

> And thus Jesus was raised in Australia until his fourth birthday, and probably had a lot of fun with snakes and tarantulas and whatever else lives out there! But Harry and Louis said _Australian wildlife no thank you_ and returned to England to live happily ever after for at least the next twenty nine years. 
> 
> Hello yes if you read this mess of a fic and are not terribly offended, i love you very much and thank you, ahahaha.


End file.
